


Sightless

by DKTakes12



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKTakes12/pseuds/DKTakes12
Summary: During the last camping scene of the game (not Royal edition), Ignis and Noct have a conversation about his loss of sight ten years ago and the memories he can no longer see. End game spoilers.





	Sightless

The warmth of the fire hit Ignis’ knees, harsh enough to cause an itchy burn on his skin. A tiny price to pay for having the King at his side once again. He would gladly endure a thousand worse pains if it meant a few more moments with Noctis. If he let himself think about it, he had already endured far worse.

“I’ve got the clean up, Specs. Just hang tight.” The camping chair creaked under Noct’s shifting weight and the crunch of gravel under thick rubber soles told Ignis all he needed to know.

The Advisor stood as well. “No need. You are the King. Rest and allow me to deal with the frivolous duties.” _Just like old times. But this time, you offered. My, what a man you’ve grown into._

The laugh left Noct easily, much like their earlier years. Ignis could picture it clearly even though the memory had faded like a worn photograph, stained grey and brown instead of the clarity he used to strive for. Noct’s laugh always started with a crinke at the corner of his eyes, an upturn of his lip, before bursting into the board stroke of a smile. It was a sight he could only remember with a young man’s face. And, perhaps, it was better that way when things to come were considered. The True King, his brother by associate, slated for death by the Astrals. A fate they had all accepted long ago despite the pains it dragged through Ignis' chest.

The clatter of dishes being gathered broke through his daze; Ignis followed the sound if only to escape his thoughts. The fire warmed his right side and, judging by the paces he had taken and the atrocious snoring, they had settled at Gladio’s chair. Ignis reached out and his fingers brushed Gladio’s bare arm before fingernails clanged against the cool glass of a beer bottle in the cup holder.

Noct snorted. “Yeah, take out the recycling after offering to do the dishes. Real smooth.”

“Well I wasn’t aware of what he was drinking. Perhaps he had a real cup.” There was no spite between them. It was as if they had been standing side by side for years instead of mere days. As if those ten years locked away in a Crystal had affected nothing.

A ruffle of fabric indicated a shrug or perhaps a generalized shift in posture. Ignis could never be quite sure about that anymore. A stack of plates was pressed to his chest and he grasped them without complaint.

"Gladio with a glass? The brute was born to swing beer out of a tankard. Don't kid yourself." There was a pause, the crackle of flames between them barely denting the heaviness of the feeling, before the King spoke again. “…do you even remember what things look like anymore?” Sadness twisted thickly in Noct’s voice. It was a deep beast, one that couldn’t have been new. After everything that had happened over the years, Ignis couldn’t blame the man.

_Man…what an odd thing to deem the boy you once took as a younger brother._

He shook the thoughts free. “Some things are clearer than others. It has been ten years after all.” Noct’s fingers brushed his elbow, leading him to the wash basin Gladio had set up on the other side of the camp. Ignis needed no assistance. He had memorized the set up of the camp through sound and touch hours before. But he had no right to deny the King such small comforts as assisting a friend.

“Tell me about them. The vivid ones.” Water splashed and the pile of plates in his hands lessened with each small clatter. The King was a man of responsibility now. The ache in Ignis’ chest was stronger than he would have thought possible. He wanted to see Noctis grow...just not like this.

“The sea." It was an easy one to start with. "I cannot remember the colour exactly, but I know it would match the sky when the sun shone. Almost impossible to tell water from air, I’d navigate by the feel of metal cutting waves. When the sun set, on clear nights, it would mirror the stars. An easy sight to get lost in. I felt as if I was standing next to the Astrals themselves, throwing myself to fate and knowing there was a plan of action. It may have been one I was unaware of, but it existed in the eyes of the Gods. The sea, the stars, is their throne room. I had the blessings to stand inside it.” _And the curse of knowing you'd join them, Noct._

The scrap of cloth against plastic cut through the dim sight in his mind’s eye. Grasping at sight wasn’t an exercise he was used to and now he realized how weak the images were. He was losing touch with a part of his world that had once been all of it. He'd forgotten the tint of blue, the shade of a night sky. All Ignis knew now was it was a sight he once enjoyed. A sight far stronger than his sense of touch. One he would never see again.

“Another?” Only a hint of hesitation lay in Noct’s voice as he reached for another plate in Ignis’ hands.

“As you wish.” He paused for a moment, lips turned in a frown, before speaking. “The Regalia. The dark leather of the wheel and the smooth run of pavement under tires. I kept Prompto in the front, his fumbling about always disturbed me while driving. When we stopped in Hammerhead, Cindy would polish her till she shined. Mirror gloss finish on the hood, those absurd decals you insisted on painting the doorways with. What were they again?” A pang tickled the inside of his ribs. The Regalia had been so important to him, to all of them, yet he couldn’t even remember what was sealed to the side of the smooth finish. He couldn’t pull it out of the bitter fuzz of his memories.

“It was the four of us but 8-bit. I won the design in a contest.” The smile was in Noct’s voice again, in the way the young King flicked water from his fingertips and stacked the last of the clean dishes.

“Ah. I remember now.” But Ignis didn’t. He couldn’t pull the colour to his mind’s eye or recall the exact shape each of their figures must have taken.

Noct’s silence filled the gentle shuffle of the breeze. The bubble and hiss of daemons spawning overran what should have been the peaceful chirp of crickets and the stir of wildlife in the bushes. Their world had changed in the time it took Noct to return from the Crystal. It had changed more than Ignis’ growing fondness for the dark and his lack of clarity.

“Another. if you please.” Noct cleared a stiffness in his throat. The sharpness of tears layered the ends of his words and Ignis kept his tongue still. He was blind; he had no right to comment on things he should not know of.

“Shall we move back to the fire before it dwindles?” He turned before he could receive an answer. _Best to leave him with some dignity._ Ignis settled himself back in his chair, careful to count the paces in his head from Gladio’s snoring to seat. The familiar half-plastic lining cushioned his back and the warmth from the fire had dimmed to more comfortable levels. He clasped his hands together in his lap. Noct’s chair shifted beside him as the King joined. Ignis could practically hear the weariness the man suffered.

_It’s almost over, Noctis. All of this. You’ll rest soon with her. The blessing of the Astrals and, perhaps, their curse watch over you._

Ignis picked the clearest memory he could recall. He squeezed his eyes shut; a silly notion to bring the words and the feelings closer to him.

“White tile. Always cool to the touch of skin but never unpleasantly so. Worn leather bound pages. Across each ivory page are hundreds of words. Each one is a different tale some of knights and princesses, others of dragons and terrible endings. There was an inkling of truth to all of them, a foretelling of what was to be. But…we were just children then.

"The sheets are a dark, royal blue. They’re pulled up under your nose as you listen to them. I read by moonlight, a silver that strained my eyes. It didn’t matter. We were brothers and I cared for my younger sibling. I would read, one eye on the page and the other on your chest in the blankets, and mark the space where you fell asleep with my thumb. There were nights were you’d reach out and grasp the length of my sleeve, delicate fabrics as I didn’t like rougher things, and cling to it. As if I was your mother instead of who I am…I never pulled away then.” _I'll never pull away now._

The crackle of the fire struck him then. A harsh clap and pop pulled Ignis out of the memory as a log snapped and broke. It was fitting he supposed. There were no more new memories to be made. It was one that would fade much like the rest. One he would try to cling to, always, despite the futility of it.

_Much like clinging to Noct._ Perhaps. But always meant something to Ignis. A promise to a dying King and a brother in a Prince. He had no wish to give it up now despite the ending he knew was coming and the sacrifices even Noct was prepared to make.

“…thanks Iggy.” It was half a whisper, one he wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t been used to locating his world through sound.

“Always, my King.”


End file.
